A Trial of Faith: Vasillia's Behest
by Ryu Niiyama
Summary: A game well played leaves only a fool's reward to the victor. As blood drips crimson roses and Orlais falls, Briala must pay the price of her choice to turn her back on the Lioness. The dread wolf howls in triumph for a soul's ease is no more.


Vasillia's Behest:

By: Ryu Niiyama

Disclaimer: Not my characters!

 **Warning** for torture…I don't go into great detail but given the darkness and passion of the DA characters…I thought it was apt.

Also if you squint there is a hint of one-sided Florianne/Celene. Nobility after all…*shudders*

Language is a bit strong and I butcher Elvhan and French (what? Spanish and Japanese are my other languages...).

* * *

The Inquisitor's words still burn, much as the weight of my returned locket; the only thing of value I'd received from my parents dragged at my soul. I'd given that to Celene back when our love was pure, back when she was my whole world. I'd always assumed that she had thrown it away when I left, no longer having to play the Game with her little pet. Yet she kept it in her private vault, a place that had it been found, there would have been no doubt to our association. She had been so careful…careful to appear the cruel monster that I wanted her to be, careful to keep her love demure so my hatred could be finely honed. She denied me nothing; when I needed someone to blame for the injustice of the world, she quietly stepped up to be my Dread Wolf. All the while she quietly ripped open her heart for me; a macabre gift to appease my rage at a world that deemed me less than her merely because of my race.

How could I have so easily forgotten how she ached to please and yearned for honest affection? How could I have believed for one moment, given her nature, that she could turn her back on what we shared? Even as children she couldn't bear hurting me, always the first to apologize even though her culture taught her that I was less than an animal. I remember how she once derided the color of my skin, a petulant fit brought on by an intensely vicious training session under Lady Mantillion and my steady obliviousness of her burgeoning affections. The same evening found her clutching my sleeping skirts and sobbing helplessly into my stomach, begging for forgiveness and assuring me of a beauty I never believed I possessed. Never did a day after that pass that she didn't remind me of my beauty and her admiration; a crown of Andraste's grace here or an eloquent snippet of poetry there. Celine tended to my reluctant heart like a gardener tending a dormant rose. I had no other recourse but to bloom under my Lioness' ardent and unwavering affection.

A blush creeps up my neck as I remember the first time she made love to me; whispering her devotion into my skin as if I was Andraste reborn. I hadn't known it at the time, but the other servants had betrayed me then, seeding the rumors that would haunt Celene even to this day. Their loose tongues alerting Mantillion and setting her wrath upon my gentle beloved. The next night I went to her, only to find her ardor occupied with deflecting my attention to a body riddled with carefully hidden bruises. I grip my fan tighter as the memory scalds my soul just as hotly now as it did then. No matter the animosity that sprang up between the two of us, a part of me killed Mantillion for the horrors she visited upon my love. My love…The Inquisitor was right about my love for Celene, and I could deny my heart no longer.

I have decided that I will go to her once the ball was done, no matter the consequences. We deserve a chance to start again and she deserves to be truly loved again. I can only pray to the Maker that I have not scorned her heart one time too many; that the Inquisitor's return of my locket was not a final goodbye. I try not to let my fear weigh me down as we gather to hear the Empress of Orlais speak. In this Celene was a supreme actress, playing her part in the game expertly even as it obscured her true nature. Still, even this mask was exquisite and I feel my heart begin to race as I see her stride forward, commanding the attention of everyone present. I feel warmth and awe suffuse me as Celene rallies her people; her voice commanding yet kind. Once again, I realize that the Orlais she dreams of is one of peace and unity; a place of knowledge and acceptance. In this moment I am honored to be a citizen of Orlais; ready to see the world my Empress has sacrificed so much for come to fruition.

For a moment her eyes meet mine and ever so briefly I see my Celene instead of the great mistress of the Game. I struggle not to smile in reflex and I can only hope my eyes display my earnest wish to mend our discord. Not wanting to distract her further, I let my gaze roam over the rest of her entourage; most of them either idiots grasping for power or loyal yet ultimately weak retainers… all of them unworthy of Celene's radiance. Had I gone through with my plan tonight, the halls would have run crimson with their blood.

I watch her cousin, the insipid milksop that she is, move closer to begin her trite, empty speech. Always the lap dog, Florianne was the true pet of the Empress, and I fervently hope that once I take my rightful place by my moonlight's side that she will cease her reliance on the sniveling leech. Florianne whimpered and mewed like a wounded halla, but I know that she hides fangs and venom. Still, she is weak and too cowardly to press for more power, unlike her fool of a brother Gaspard. The thought of what he wants from _my_ Celene makes my stomach roll and the hidden dagger at my back burn with the need to bathe its blade in his blood. In my muted fury I don't notice Florianne drawing too close to my Lioness until it is too late. I have only a moment of awareness as the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. Something is wrong...Celene! My feet began to move and for a moment Celene's gaze widens in understanding…but it is not enough. I scream as the traitorous monster plunges her dagger into Celene's unprotected spine and my beloved staggers forward, reaching out to me before crumpling to the ground.

The Inquisitor is moving forward, but I am faster than she as I scramble up the balustrade and slide to my knees to reach Celene's still, crumpled form. Florianne ignores me, as she indicts her brother as her accomplice and the Inquisitor challenges her. Yet all I can see, all I care about is my vhenan as I pull her into my lap. "HEALER! Call the healer you fools!" I shout frantically, looking for a guard as Florianne spares me one last sneering glance before she makes her escape. I feel Celene's weak grasp of my hand and I am drawn to her cerulean eyes glazed over with pain. She smiles weakly at me, and I watch incredulously as she swallows blood in an attempt to speak. Only the fact that I am Elvhan allows me to hear her whispered words and rage and heart break fill me at their meaning. With her final words, my vhenan dies in my arms and I feel my soul die with her as I carefully, reverently lay her blood stained body back to the floor.

There is only vengeance left in the void of my shattered soul as I surge to my feet. I must get to Florianne before the Inquisitor does. She has a lead on me, but I know Halamshiral as intimately as the Imperial Palace and I move through the chaos, killing any that attempt to bar my way. Soon, I hear the footsteps of the oathbreaker in front of me and the Inquisitor's band behind me and I grip my dagger tightly, ready to avenge my heart. I catch up to the shem bitch and launch one of my hidden throwing knives towards her retreating form. My knife strikes true as it burrows deep into Florianne's right calf and sends her toppling to the floor. The usurper had almost reached the doors leading to the courtyard, and I assist her in her journey with a well-placed roundhouse kick to the face that sends her crashing through solid oak. Her garish mask goes flying, instantly forgotten as I stare at her prone form. The fool had not realized that we Elvhan are far stronger than our slender stature implied, and I intend to impress that lesson upon her until she lies broken and bloody at my feet.

"You…filthy shemlen!" I roar as I stride forward, only turning long enough to bar the partially ruined doors with a broken board created by Florianne's "entrance". My desire to eliminate the Inquisitor from my business was almost my undoing, as I barely had enough time to dodge the arrow that now quivered embedded in wood where my head had been. With a snarl I turn to face the cowardly murderer and find her attempting to notch another arrow. With trembling arms, likely brought on by pain and the venom coating my knife, the milksop stares at me with utter hatred in her eyes. Her audacity to look at me as if I just took away _her_ moonlight makes me almost willing to ignore the poised arrow.

"And you wonder why I freed her? How could she lay with an _animal_? Don't look so surprised spymaster. Celene was a master, but she always faltered a bit when you were concerned. Not enough to allow others to take advantage but enough to illuminate her…proclivities." I want to ignore her attempt at stalling, but while I can accept her hatred of me I can't bear the disdain I hear in her voice for Celene.

"You… she trusted you. Harellan!"

"And she trusted you! She _loved_ you! And yet were you not here for the same reason tonight? My associates tell me there were so many of your little litter scurrying about. Whispering, chattering knives in the dark. Tell me Briala, how were you going to do it? At the party? Or had you poisoned her food or drink so that you could take her one last time first? She would have let you do it too. At least now I have given her a dignified death. You think because you stayed your hand it makes you more noble than I, connasse? I freed her…because _I_ loved her! If I thought for one moment that she would have acquiesced, I would have made her my queen once I became Empress of all of Thedas! You did this! You forced my hand!"

Her words hammered my soul and I felt as if I was drowning. Before, I had moved merely on instinct, yet now the truth could not be ignored. Celene was dead…my beautiful vhenan'ara was gone forever. Only the Maker would be able to embrace her now. Even worse, she died believing that I hated her, that I would have preferred her death. There was some truth to Florianne's words but she didn't understand I would've never, ever harmed Celene physically. I had caused her heart enough pain, but to know that I had failed to protect her, failed to make things right. My hands clench as my rage threatens to snap my tenuous hold on my sanity. And to think this…mad harlot was one that took her from me for the sake of a lunatic's delusion.

The sound that issued from my throat was inelvhan, was as animalistic as that traitorous bitch claimed I was, but it was a sound of unbearable loss. I would make her suffer…her plans would not come to fruition this day. With a flick of my wrist, I sent a dagger flying towards the dark bard's head. Florianne let her arrow fly and I rolled away and towards her, throwing a punch as I came to my feet. My fist connected solid and satisfying, while the bow went flying, but the milksop wasn't entirely inept as she countered with a punch of her own.

The shem knocked off my mask and lunged forward, toppling me. Her features, similar enough to Celene's to be familiar yet lacking her classical beauty, were scrunched in a rictus of hatred. "Look at you! Exposed, filthy, common! You deserve to die, a vermin that no one will mourn! She should have been MINE!" I barely feel the sting of her punches as she splits my lip before she wraps her hands around my throat and begins to squeeze.

Florianne has not pinned my arms in her haste to choke me, and she will regret her foolishness. Holding what was left of my breath, I slam my fists with all of my flagging strength onto both of her supinators, forcing her to loosen her grip. A solid hammer fist to each kidney sends her toppling forward and off of me. I scramble for the forgotten bow even as the dark bard attempts to rise and gripping it two handed, I turn around swinging it in a low arc like a club with all of my might. I feel a perverse sense of glee as I shatter the bow against the knee of her left leg and she crumples with a cry.

I pull another hidden dagger and smash what is left of the bow against the shem's face before tossing it behind me. Florianne is thrown to the floor from the force of the blow and I can tell her jaw is broken. Before the traitor can move, I drive my dagger with all of my strength into her hand, forcing the blade to bite into marble. I straddle her now, making sure my knees are restraining her shoulders and I spit into her hated, pain grimaced face. At this point I hear the Inquisitor and her allies have made it to the bared yet damaged double doors. I don't have as much time as I'd like, but I know it will take time for the Inquisitor to break down the doors. Lady Adaar can see me from behind the ruined wood and I hear her shouting and attempting to turn the door handles.

"No! Lady Briala! Stop! She must face justice!"

I turn my dead eyes upon the Qunari Inquisitor, her striking features imploring me to stop. Yet I could not, would not stop. I've heard of the Inquisitor's form of justice…often press-ganging others into service rather than seeing their skills rot. I would not see Florianne become an unintentional heroine of the end times. Her legacy would not outlive Celene's. This filth had taken away my Lioness; she deserves no mercy…and I will show her true justice.

The pathetic shem struggles to rise but between a shattered kneecap and the dagger that nailed her hand to the ground she has no leverage. Carefully, systematically I removed a small tool bundle that I always kept upon my person. Celene had often wanted to protect me from the darkness of the Game, yet for her I mired my soul in oblivion. These skills didn't save my beloved, but they would avenge her.

For once the milksop looked confused and frightened, and I think that in that moment she realized that I would not make her death a clean one.

I hated the strength of the family resemblance between this flaccid imitation and my fallen Lioness. She didn't deserve the Valmont beauty and on this day I would relieve her of it. Methodically, I injected Florianne with a concoction called creator's vengeance. It was a homemade potion, known only to servant Elvhes, designed to keep someone alert but also slow blood flow to extend one's life when wounded. It was normally used by servants that had been taken against their will by their masters. I close my eyes for a moment in regret; not even an hour ago I would have accused Celene of the same, not because it was true, but because I delighted in the wounded, hesitant glint to her eyes.

I think of our last night together; it was after I'd succeeded in ensuring the deaths of both Celene and Gaspard's ambassadors, and I went to her full of dark pride and angry seduction. She let me bruise and bite when I should have been tender and adoring, let me punish when I should have soothed. I took pride in making it so that she could never wear lighter, revealing dresses, never caring that her sweltering in the Orlesian summer in high necked dresses made her the laughing stock of the nobles. I fed her dark need for redemption, slowly transforming her tender heart into a sullied one; one that required pain not for pleasure but because she felt it was the only way she could show her love.

My last memories of her in passion were wrought with cruelty and anger, and all of it had been mine alone. Long had I derided her in my heart, believing her nothing more than a shemlen monster, hating her for refusing to give me everything she was and more. Hating myself even more for loving her so. What a fool I've been; I knew the nature of the Game and saw my love's end goal, but I wanted freedom for my people instantly and I wanted Celene to pay for the cruelty of her people. Like a child that irrationally stomps on a delicate flower or rips the wings from a butterfly, I hurt her because her soul's beauty affronted me in a world of monsters. So I punished my soul-tie, plunged her throne into chaos and denied her the only things she wanted more than an enlightened, peaceful Orlais. I denied her my love and my trust.

My heart aches as I remember all the times she accepted my judgment, clutching me closer and sobbing out my name in forgiveness. Truly, the only monsters here were myself and Florianne. For a brief moment I wished that I could undo my cruelty; that at least if I could not protect her, she could go to the Maker knowing she was loved. Did she know? Did she know that anguish that shredded my heart as I plotted her end? Did she know that I'd never be able to take her life…her throne yes, but only so that I could rebuild it so that she may rule beside me. And now she was gone, her last thoughts likely believing in my contempt and hatred; rather than a love so overwhelmingly unwavering that I could only lash out in my anger and embarrassment. Now there were no more chances for a lifetime of love…and this shemlen harlot believed that she had done Celene a kindness.

Celene deserved better than us both. She deserved someone that could help her build her beautiful dream; she had wanted her legacy to be a nation of enlightenment and valor. I couldn't give her that beautiful future, but I could avenge her loss. My scalpels cut and I watched in fascination as red blood bloomed like a pure rose upon the usurper's face. Florianne attempted to weakly buck me from her injured form, yet she had no leverage and was quickly becoming blinded by pain. I took the things that she sought to tie her to Celene, all the while ignoring the furious howls of the Inquisitor as she tried to use brute strength to overcome the heavy doors. I carved steadily, taking and taking and yet still not satisfied...so long as I could see the Valmont beauty in this imposter I would never know peace.

The Qunari pleaded with me…not for Florianne's sake but for my own, yet I was past hearing. The hardest part is the tongue…How to remove it without having my subject drown in her own sluggish blood flow? I have so very little time left, for I can tell the milksop is fading. Still, I am nothing if not creative.

I don't look up as the doors finally fall to the Qunari Inquisitor's might, instead I rip the dagger from Florianne's hand and prepare to drive it into her black heart. I will not allow anyone to save her. She shall not live while my Celene died a commoner's death believing that I had rejected her. I won't allow it! A strong blow to the back of my head robs me of my consciousness, yet as I surrender to oblivion, all I can hear are Celene's last words to me.

"Ar lasa mala revas, ma elgara uth lathbora viran."

 _You are now free, my sunlight, forever loved but denied to me._ My moonlight had used the last of her strength to bless me, as if I could ever be free of this horror.

Maker, let me die and join my love.

* * *

Hmm...this turned out a little darker than I expected.

R. Niiyama

11/2016


End file.
